


Wooden Rosary

by almygdala



Category: Original Work
Genre: 365 Words, Alligators & Crocodiles, Character Death, Flash Fiction, Gothic, Horror, Original Fiction, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Short, Short Story, Southern Gothic, gun - Freeform, swamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28396635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almygdala/pseuds/almygdala





	Wooden Rosary

You were in the swamp with your brother that night in July, hunting an alligator. You both had your guns held tight, and you had the habit of fiddling with the lever on your rifle as with the beads of a rosary. Perhaps it was your form of a subconscious prayer. The gator was a big thing, and as fast out of the water as it was in. You had witnessed it yourself, down on the banks behind your daddy’s barn. You could count on one hand the number of times you had avoided a marshy death, and on two how many people had not. You knew its sharp smile and leather skin well enough; you had seen it more times than anyone. You had felt its deadly strength, and it felt right that it should finally die by yours. So you and your brother had set out that night on your old rowboat, with the promises of revenge and a reward of fifty dollars made by the sheriff. You remember being in awe of the quietness of the swamp, that a beast so savage and violent inhabited its green waters.   
  
For a while, it seemed as though you and your brother were the only things alive in that swamp; there was no wind, no singing birds, only the splashing of water against your oars and the tick of your gun as you prayed. You had been rowing for an hour before it emerged from the carpet of algae, advancing upon you smoothly and quietly. Your brother noticed it before you did, and he leveled his gun between its eyes and fired. It still advanced, faster now; you fired your own gun as your brother tried to row away, but it was fast, as fast as you remembered, and in the flash of its green eyes you knew it remembered, too. By the time you had your rifle reloaded, your brother and the gator had sunk back into the water. The swamp settled again into silence, a sudden, shocking silence, as if nothing at all had happened. You rowed back to the bank, through your brother’s swell of blood, clicking your gun as you prayed.


End file.
